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Twixt the wild motley camp of Hannibal,
And where Minucius with his legions lay,
Domed a fair crest, a crowning eminence,
Whereof who made himself the happy lord
Might stand in calm security of place;
And ever as the hovering victory paused
Grasp her strong eagle-wing; but shadowing death,
It frowned for those pale men that warred below.
Here, tho' no sylvan undergrowth appear'd,
With drapery of green leaves, and clasping thorns,
To clothe the interspace, yet in and out,
Dim-sheltering caves spotted the broken ground,
And in the caves were housed five thousand knights,
Both man and steed, with flower of infantry,
Swathed in the kindly gloom, nor, any where,
Could gleam of armour or the wavering light
Of casque, that twinkled if a head but moved,
Alarm Suspicion with her million eyes;
For ere the bright forefinger of the Day
Had half undrawn the curtain of the dark,
And let the young light in, came desperate men,
Fresh from the motley host of Hannibal,
To climb that crowning height, and climbing it,
Focus all vision there. But as they came
The Romans saw, and laughed, and laughing, said:
“Mere sport it were, sullying our brighter fame
“To match our swords with swords of men like these—
“A nameless crew—and, from their coward fears,
“Extort what worth should win.” And as they mocked,
The blaring trumpet rang thro' all the field,
With scornful fiery snarl of silver sound,
The while Minucius with his braggart band
Called out “To arms! to arms!” and jeered and sneered,
Flaunting his peacock fancies as he called.
“Now go,” he says, “the lightest of my troops,
“But not too many.” And the Light-armed went
And fought, and did their best, but fled amain.
“Now go,” he cries, “but go in serried line,
“My noble knights.” And all his noble knights
Went, as he bade, and fought and fled amain.
Then called Minucius his whole strength of war—
Part mounted, part unmounted—to the field.
And Hannibal beheld, and fed the fight
With goodly horse, or flower of valiant men
That fought on foot; and the hot battle grew.
Band mixed with band, and man with man they fought,
Till the field rang with clang and clash of arms,
And crash of shivering sword and splintering spear,
And the long scream of horses mad with pain,
And moan of men despairing; and all life
Went drowning down in that wild sea which Death
O'erhangs—the spectral Shape that feeds on men.

So fought the Romans or, alas! so fled
Un-Romanlike those Romans. But on fire
For that fair fame which diademed their Past,
Unbroken stood a flower of nobler men,
Fighting as heroes fight; and had the hour
Equalled desert, had matched their old renown.
But suddenly, from cave and hollow rock,
The secret soldier, with insulting cry,
Leapt out—one here, one there, and thro' the field
Tumult and terror bore, till hope's pale star,
Alike for victory or for flight, had set.
So, mid the hollow rocks, Minucius fought.